Chapter 30: Hartford City Jail Blues

Lee and Murphy's silence on the long trip across Connecticut was unbearable. When they finally arrived at the Hartford City Jail, Murphy opened the door and just stared at her in disappointment for a few seconds before finally asking, "Should we be expecting a breakout attempt by your father?"

Carolyn hung her head. "No heroics. I'm on my own."


When Carolyn was booked into the Hartford City Jail, the entire building was reverberating from the sound of seventy-eight prisoners singing:


Her hair is no-one-knows,
Her brain is over-size
She wears old greasy clothes,
She's got Gadget Hackwrench eyes!
She'll turn her naiveté on you,
You'll think her veins hold ice
She just don't understand,
She got Gadget Hackwrench eyes!


Carolyn noticed that most of the police officers were wearing ear protection of one kind or another. "Mighty generous of you to let them sing song parodies like that," she told Sergeant Detweiler, her booking officer.

"Those Imperials brought it on themselves when they set up the monitoring equipment. It's supposed to broadcast to Gogol via the Wired, but the tech must have gotten a wire crossed, because all of our electronics have been on the blink ever since."

Carolyn looked around at the station, which still looked much the way it did in her childhood, although there were a few people she didn't recognize. Confirming Detweiler's story, everything was being done with pen and paper, and the computers were all turned off. In one corner, Detective Tenchure was explaining to the dispatch officer his theory of how the Emperor's missing Moon expert had actually been a Danaan spy disguised as a human, the truth covered up to protect Nimnul's reputation.

Her brief survey of the room also brought to her attention a mysterious man in a trench coat sitting in a dark corner. He appeared to be looking calmly at her. There was something oddly disconcerting about the man's appearance, like he was slightly out of phase with the rest of the universe.

She was not allowed to examine the man long before she was taken to the cellblock.


Seventy-eight Rescue Ranger fans were the only occupants of four large cells. In the center of the hallway between them was a pair of television cameras and boom microphones, all obviously appropriated from station WHCT-46, which was hooked up to a boxy device with a long wire antenna that had been attached to the far wall with industrial-sized staples. The transmitter gave off a strong smell of ozone, and was apparently responsible for causing the television sets mounted from the ceilings of all four cells to simultaneously change channels at random intervals.

Instead of being intimidated by the smell, the television malfunctions and the loss of what little privacy they had left, the prisoners considered the existence of the equipment a very good omen. Although WHCT currently only broadcast home shopping and other paid programs, back in 1989 it was one of only eighteen stations in the country to broadcast every completed episode of The Rescue Rangers.


She will drive you,
And arrive you
You'll be lucky you're still alive, You!
She's not porous, and this chorus
Has me using my thesaurus
She's gonna make some poor chipmunk die,
She's got Gadget Hackwrench eyes!


The crowd, gathered in front of the cameras, erupted into cheers when they saw Carolyn join them, not knowing the significance of her presence here. Carolyn forced a smile and waved as she was let into one of the cells. The only look of shock and dismay came from Honker, who was sitting on the floor with a large sketchpad and pencil. His uncompleted sketch showed every Ranger character and fan avatar imaginable acting out a vast Broadway musical showstopper for the WHCT cameras.

Standing around Honker was his entire family.

"Honker!" cried Carolyn. "You never told me you'd be bringing them along!"

"They insisted," said Honker sadly.

Honker's brother Terence put his hand on Honker's shoulder. "Yeah, first decent thing the shrimp's ever done."

"The poor dear looks cold," commented Honker's mother. "Let me knit you a sweater." And pulling a pair of knitting needles and some yarn out of nowhere, began to do just that. By some strange law of opposites, this made Carolyn think of Madame Lafarge from A Tale of Two Cities.

Carolyn pulled Honker aside. "I'm so sorry..." she began.

He put a finger to her lip. "Not another word. Saving them was a long shot in any case. We need to regroup. But first..." Honker turned to address his fellow inmates in song. "This is not the end / We don't have to pretend / I'm one of many online friends / Of rodents who go find problems to mend / For I am..."

Catching the cue, the crowd launched into "Ranger In Your Soul", a song composed especially for the fandom by an unfortunate duo that were now spending time on the Moon. I think they called themselves Doctor Spock's Backup Pair.

With the singing guaranteeing that their further conversation would not be monitored, Honker and Carolyn walked back through the crowd, receiving greetings on all sides.

"First of all," said Honker, "there's still your father and The Company. We may not have to do anything if they succeed."

"I'd rather not take that chance, to be perfectly honest with you," Carolyn replied.

"Well, if you have any ideas for escape, I'd love to hear them."

"I'm working on it."


They were approached by a young man wearing a tailored suit. "Excuse me," he said with an English accent, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Depends."

"Oh dear, I am interrupting. Sorry, I'll just come back another time. It's just that, you are MyMelody, aren't you?"

"Try Carolyn, but what can we help you with?"

"Oh, you are her. I'm Tom, Tom Gray, and I'd just like to take a moment to thank you profusely for this entire experience. More fun than I've had in my entire life."

"Carolyn, this is the Earl of Dorset. You remember, the fellow who kindly agreed to fund this entire venture? I'm sorry, no refunds."

Tom looked at the young man in shock, before finally breaking out into laughter. "Oh, you Americans and your dark humor!"

Carolyn meanwhile stood very still. The words "thank you" echoed around in her head for several seconds, until they finally found a match in a recent memory.

"Honker, you remember when I was telling you about the last time I contacted Tammy?"

Honker found himself trying to carry on two conversations at once. To Carolyn, he said, "that was the one that ended with a song for my pet bat, I believe." To Tom he said, "Seriously, though, I didn't expect you to actually show up in person. The funding was above and beyond the call of duty for a Ranger fan."

"Oh it was getting frightfully boring being a lord," explained Tom. "I'm hoping news of my arrest provokes a response from Parliament. Perhaps a declaration of independence."

"Yes," said Carolyn. "Somebody said 'thank you' at the end, right before the connection was broken. I never could figure out who it was. It was your Foxglove!"

"Wait, what?" said Honker in response to both of them.

Tom looked at Carolyn. "Go ahead."

"Thanks. Yes, in the Rescue Rangers universe, your bat can talk."

"But her mind came from this universe. Shouldn't she be lacking the, um, capacity needed for that kind of thinking?"

Carolyn shrugged. "You've watched the show. Leaps of logic are commonplace there. Your Foxglove is in a cartoon universe, so she obeyed the laws of that universe. Just like the Rangers are here, and obey the laws of mundane reality. At least it appears that way."

"Well, appearances can be deceptive," volunteered the Earl of Dorset.


Not to put too fine a point on it
We are the biggest fans on this planet
Keep a Rescue Ranger in your soul!


"Will Carolyn Mowlardey please step forward?"

"That's pronounced 'Mallard', by the way," said Francine from the other side of the bars. Bud and his faithful folder were beside her. "Do you represent this group, Carolyn?"

"I'm never one to back down, so yeah."

Tom stepped forward. "If you're here to single out Miss Maughlarde for additional punishment, know that you'll have to go through me, first."

Francine smiled. "Very touching, Sir Knight. Don't worry; I'm not here to dole out punishment. I came to satisfy my curiosity as to why you would throw away your freedom over such a ridiculous cause."

"Oh, and Nimnul banning a cartoon isn't ridiculous?" asked Honker.

"Nimnul could ban breathing on the surface of the Moon as well. Does that mean that somebody should go out there and prove him wrong?"

"If he can get away with banning one cartoon, he'll move onto banning more and more until won't be able to think without his say-so. Do you really want that?"

Francine shrugged. "That's the chance you take when you put one man in charge of an entire planet."

"Well, there's your answer," said Carolyn. "We followed our principles."

"Ah, 'principles'. I remember having those, once. Here, this is for you." She handed Carolyn a Hartford Public Library copy of Waldo & Magic, Inc. "I'd appreciate it if you read it-it has a certain significance to me."

Carolyn took the book and glanced at it. "Yes, I remember this book well. Here, Honker, a little light reading for you."

Bud offered a page of taunts to Francine, who brushed it away. She was about to offer up the taunt she had been preparing on the drive up when she was interrupted by the voice of the shadowy man from earlier.

"May I have a minute of your time, Empress?"

Francine turned to face a man she had never met before, kneeling before her. A rolled up document was in one hand.

"Get up, get up!" she said, annoyed. "Who are you?"

"Just a simple citizen, your Excellency."

"Sure you are." Francine tried to study the man's face, but found for some reason that trying to focus on it gave her a headache. "What is your business with me?"

"I have an anonymous petition to present to the ruler of Earth. Technically, I believe you have that role at present."

"Yes, I am regent," Francine said, taking the document from the man. "Let's see what you want...you, you can't be serious!"

"Oh, but I am, Empress. These prisoners are being grossly over-punished for a frivolous offense. I request the right to have Imperial Law 567423 referred to a public vote."

"No citizen has the right to challenge Imperial law!"

"Actually, I have included documentation of my precedents," the man said, pulling out one of the latter pages in the pile Francine was looking at. "See, The State vs. Prince Richard, 1948. Emperor Albert interrupted the trial by putting the terms of the treason law before a public vote. The public overturned the bloodline clause, and the prince was freed. This precedent was confirmed by Emperor Norton with the public trial of Anton Gorski."

Francine glanced over at Bud, who was frantically digging through his file folder. "Is it possible that the Emperor's ability to anticipate every situation has met its match?"

Bud sighed in defeat. "I've got nothing."

Francine beamed. "Finally! Mister Citizen, I owe you a debt of gratitude, so I will do you a favor by expediting this matter. Believe me, you do not want the Emperor involved. I'll tell you what: I'll arrange for worldwide coverage of a one on one debate on the legality of Imperial Law 567423 tomorrow between noon and one, to be followed by public vote via the Wired and telephone during the following hour. Is that agreeable to you?"

The man bowed. "It is."

"Good. I'm appointing myself as advocate in favor of the law. I look forward to meeting you on the field of rhetorical battle."

"Not me, Empress."

"Oh? Who do you appoint as your advocate?"

"Carolyn Maughlarde."

Francine fixed the young woman with a piercing stare.

Carolyn didn't blink. "What will be the specific terms of the debate?" she asked.

"First, is the television show Rescue Rangers treasonous in and of itself? And second, is fandom of Rescue Rangers a form of treason?"

"That is acceptable. I propose Galt Braunbight as moderator," said Carolyn.

"Accepted. You do realize that even if you do manage to overturn this law, you are still guilty of trespassing?"

Carolyn nodded. "We respect the law, and fully expect to pay the fair penalty for our actions."

"Principles again, huh? So be it. That book is due on the fifteenth, by the way." And with that, Francine turned and walked out of the station, followed by Bud.

Carolyn looked long into the face of her rescuer. "Are you going to tell me your name?" she asked.

The man shook his head.

"Very well, I shall name you 'Plato'. Thank you, Plato, for saving my life."

The man smiled. "Then the debt has been repaid," he said.